


Irresistible

by gattan_cae



Series: "Hardcore" Kinktober 2020 [17]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Blood, Kinktober 2020, Kinky, Kinky Gen, Knifeplay, M/M, Polyamory, Subspace, The Promare Didn't Leave (Promare)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gattan_cae/pseuds/gattan_cae
Summary: Lio experiences the strange and beautiful feeling of being carved into a masterpiece under Meis's careful hands.Kinktober day 17:  blood (knifeplay)
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Gueira/Meis
Series: "Hardcore" Kinktober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949854
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> title 100% stolen from FOB's "Irresistible" bc it's perfect for this fic

Lio’s stretched out on the bed on his belly, ankles and wrists bound to the head and footboards, and Meis is straddling his hips. The lights are dim, candles lit around the bedroom for ambiance, and Lio’s heart is already pounding, regulating his breathing carefully to keep his Promare calm for all the buzzing anticipation in his body.

“Found it!” Gueira calls as he steps into the room, closing the door behind them and enclosing the three in the moody, expectant air of the bedroom. Lio cranes his head as far as he can in his current position to catch a glimpse of the knife in Gueira’s hand. It flashes like a rainbow in the semi-darkness, polished and heat-treated steel taking on a range of blue, yellow, and purple hues deep in the metal. It had reminded them of their Burnish armor. Meis had honed it for hours until it’d cut a thread draped over the blade.

And now that blade is about to bite into Lio’s back.

Meis bends low over Lio, his long hair curtaining them in their own private space. “You know the words. Remember to use them if you need to. This isn’t a contest of strength or endurance, right, Lio? It’s about making you feel good.”

“Mm-hm,” Lio confirms. Meis pecks him on the cheek before sitting up and accepting the knife from Gueira. They’d agreed that Gueira would watch and Meis would cut, owing to Meis’s surgeon-steady hands and Gueira’s inexperience. Behind and above him, Lio hears Meis take a deep breath. Lio closes his eyes.

He doesn’t actually feel the knife touch his skin. It’s so sharp he doesn’t feel the cuts until several moments later, as they start to burn.

“Remember to breathe,” Gueira says softly, taking one of Lio’s bound hands and squeezing gently to help with circulation. Lio takes a breath as instructed, trying to breathe shallowly enough that he won’t mess up Meis’s cuts. After a few minutes, with Lio’s upper back and shoulder blades tingling and burning, Lio feels the knife as it cuts for the first time. It still doesn’t feel painful; it’s too sharp to be painful, but he can feel the razor-like blade gliding through his skin. The sensation is so shockingly intimate and startlingly foreign that it brings tears to Lio’s eyes and Gueira leans in to wipe his eyes dry.

“Breathe with me,” he murmurs, tracing his fingers up and down Lio’s arm in the rhythm of breath. Lio’s attention is split between the cold, burning, sliding, slicing blade in his back and Gueira’s fingertips on his forearm, which feel strangely rough in comparison.

“Calm your flames,” Meis says above Lio, voice even and smooth. Lio refocuses on his fire, tamping it down and reassuring it that this hurt is okay, it’s good. It doesn’t need to be burned out. Meis shifts, sliding back off Lio’s hips and down onto his thighs. Lio takes a deep, full-body breath before he feels the blade, warmed by his body now, slide through the layers of his skin over his spine. The point of it triggers the nerves over his vertebrae and he feels it as little electric pings of sensation, twitches of strange not-pain. He spirals gently downwards into the floaty space of existence he loves so much, where Lio Fotia ceases to be a coherent concept and becomes instead a collection of sensations.

The knife moves smoothly down his back, coating it in a mantle of tingling and burning. Opening Lio’s body up in a new and strange and deep way, baring and making himself vulnerable in a way he never has before. Allowing someone to claim his insides never before seen or touched, a virgin all over again, letting them leave permanent marks upon him. Bleeding for them, becoming a canvas.

New sensations, rough and soft simultaneously, on Lio’s face pull him out of subspace. His eyes flutter open to the bedroom which looks stunningly bright now, and Meis and Gueira both are right there.

“How’re you feeling?” Meis asks. Lio breathes in deeply, the action causing a delicious, bright new flare of burning on his back, and scrapes together his scattered mind.

“Good,” he mumbles, mouth feeling clumsy.

“Let’s sit him up,” Meis murmurs to Gueira. They untie Lio and sit him upright on the bed. Gueira clambers up and lets Lio drape forward against his warm, bare chest, arms looped around his neck like a lifeline.

“So pretty,” Gueira breathes into Lio’s ear. “Look.”

Lio raises his cumbersome head and peers over Gueira’s shoulder at the mirror Meis is holding there. In the reflection of the closet door mirror behind him, Lio can see the masterpiece Meis has made of his back. Every inch of his pale skin is covered with fine red lines that form intricate, looping, interlocking patterns like antique ironwork. Some spots have beaded up with blood and dripped down, forming smooth lines down the divot of his spine. Lio inhales, enthralled with the movement of his ribs under the patterns and the sweet burn.

Then he gives his flames a little leash, allowing them to sweep along the beautiful lines carved lovingly into his skin. Waves of iridescent light spill down his back, lighting up the pattern with a shifting aurora of healing flame, burning the artwork into his eyes as well as his back. The flames smooth and soothe the cuts but Lio doesn’t let them burn as brightly as they want, to erase all trace of injury, and pulls them back after only a few minutes’ ember-like healing.

Meis procures a washcloth and Gueira holds the mirror so Lio can watch as Meis wipes the last of the blood from Lio’s skin. The new scars are devilishly sensitive, making Lio shiver at the feeling of the gentle wet cloth, and practically shine in the low candlelight, turning his back from just a body structure to a living canvas, Meis’s expert artwork breathing and shifting across his muscles and bones as he moves.

“It’s beautiful,” Lio breathes. “Thank you.”

Meis wipes his lovely knife clean, and sets it carefully aside. “Just enhancing what was already there. Thanks for letting me do that.” He leans in and kisses Lio softly, and Gueira ghosts his fingertips up and down Lio’s brand-new back, each of his boys’ touches filling him with a gentle and alien ecstasy.


End file.
